


Surrender (yourself to me)

by Ani_V



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, Just a non canon thing, Lydia likes Stiles fingers because who doesnt, but there's no Wild Hunt, its like at the beginning of season, or anything
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-27
Updated: 2016-11-27
Packaged: 2018-09-02 16:59:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8675428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ani_V/pseuds/Ani_V
Summary: He’s not graceful, or elegant. Of course, he’s slender and tall, Lydia is not blind. He has long legs and long arms, and long fingers —she’s sure he has long everything and that thought bothers her much more that she likes to admit.He’s clumsy and awkward and a knot of nerves, so the thought of his long fingers should not bother her at all because Stiles Stilinski is everything but sexy, but it does. She crosses her legs and bites her lips, trying to maintain her focus because, seriously, this is getting stupid. She’s Lydia Martin, she can’t be possibly lusting after Stiles Stilinski.He’s…. He’s Stiles, for Christ’s sake.





	

He’s not graceful, or elegant. Of course, he’s slender and tall, Lydia is not blind. He has long legs and long arms, and long fingers —she’s sure he has long everything and that thought bothers her much more that she likes to admit.

He’s clumsy and awkward and a knot of nerves, so the thought of his long fingers shouldn’t bother her at all because Stiles Stilinski is everything but sexy.

But it does. For some stupid reason, —Lydia believes is just because of that feeling, the “I’m about to die, we’re all going to die” feeling that they’re been facing for the past years. It has wrecked her nervous system and now all her synapsis just won’t work properly anymore—, she’s been staring at his fingers for the past half an hour.

They’re in class, she doesn’t even know what the teacher is talking about and that should bother her because they’re in biology and she loves biology classes, but at the moment she’s apparently more interested in Stiles’s fingers. In a biological level.

He’s restless like always, fidgeting on his chair, taping his fingers on his thighs like he’s drumming a rhythm that only he can hear. Surely Lydia can´t hear it, but she can feel it. She crosses her legs and bites her lips, trying to maintain her focus because, seriously, this is getting stupid. She’s Lydia Martin, she can’t be possibly lusting after Stiles Stilinski.

He’s…. He’s Stiles, for Christ’s sake.

She touches her hair, trying to hide her embarrassment, and writes something, anything, on her notebook just to stop staring at him. But then, at some point, he needs to sit next to her because they’re going to do this group activity, and of course —of course– the professor believes they work great together —which they actually do, because for all his flaws, he is smart. And observant. Even with his ADHD he has managed to be at the same classes she’s in. So yeah, Stiles? He’s smart.

He smiles at her like he always does lately, like he is not in love with her anymore. Not like before. After Malia, he’s been acting different. Sure, he’s still the same funny, awkward, silly guy, but at the same time he’s more confident of himself.

No, not in love with her anymore. Now, it’s like he just loves her. In a friendly way.

She should feel relieved about it, because at this point, with all that has happened until this day, loving each other as friends do, as _pack_ do, is the best way it can be. She should feel relieved because he seems happy for the first time in forever, and life has been good for a while. It’s been a quiet summer. God, Lydia didn’t remember the last time she woke up screaming in the middle of the night, feeling like someone was about to die.

She should feel relieved but she doesn’t because at some point along the way she has got used to it, to him, to the loving way he looked at her and the careful way he treated her. He still does, but now she doesn’t feel like he wants her.

And, gods forgive her, she wants to be desired.

You’re losing your mind, she tells herself, while Stiles sits beside her, the teacher still talking, and he starts taking notes. The pen’s hood is in his mouth, because he’s biting it, and he licks it while he keeps writing. She doesn’t even believe he knows he’s doing it, but he’s tapping his tongue at it, moving the hood between his teeth, and now she has completely forgot about his fingers —Congrats, Lydia— because his tongue is much more interesting. It’s red and wet and just a fucking tongue, but she finds herself biting her lower lip, trying to breathe through her nose.

“You okay, Lydia?”

Stiles looks at her, worried, the concern turning his eyes into caramel flames that are melting her.

“Yeah, sure” she manages a little smile, and Stiles looks funny at her, but she’s Lydia Martin, the Banshee, and apparently, everyone is used to a little weirdness around her.

 

*

 

They’re studying. And for once, that’s all they’re doing.

Lydia is sitting on Stile’s bed, trying to figure it out the best way to solve an algebra problem. The room is quiet, because Stiles is not there —he needed to eat something, he said, or he wouldn’t be able to focus— and it should be odd, being in his room on her own, but it’s not. They’re so used to be in each other’s company that even now, that there’s no supernatural danger forcing them to expend time together, they need it. She surely does.

Stiles blackboard —not quite, it’s not like the one at school, but — it’s no longer full of leads, and track and unresolved cases. There’s a couple of loosen strands, red and yellow, but nothing important. There’s no pictures and definitely, there’s no urgency in the room anymore.

She breathes, trying to calm herself, and the smell of Stiles —sweet and peppermint, like candy and man— doesn’t help her at all.

“Are you hungry?” Stiles enters the room, smiling at her “I didn’t ask you before”

“I’m good”

“You sure?”

He gets closer to the bed, where all their books are spread out, looking amused. And smelling like coffee too.

“Sure” she answers, because she’s starting to feel like she needs him, but she’s not going to tell him that.

“Alright” Stiles lays down beside her on the bed —which is a big bed, actually. They’re not even touching each other— and busies himself with his own homework. It’s not long before she starts to notice his fingers again. He’s just reading his lesson, but the movement of his fingers when he turns the pages of his book is distracting.

And then he bits his thumb. He’s writing the answers on his notebook, while biting his thumb and she shouldn’t find him —that, this, HIM— attractive. She shouldn’t feel like she wants to be touched by him. But she does. She wants those fingers on her skin, in her hair. Inside of her.

There.

She has said it —well, think about it.

It’s been so long since the last time she felt loved, or adored, or even desired she doesn’t even remember it. Jackson was far more interested in himself that her, and Aiden… well, there were no love or feelings involve in there. Just passion.

But with Stiles, God, with him it could be totally different.

Stiles wouldn’t be one of those guys who assumes all the girls want to suck him off, and that's what would make you want to do it. The gratitude and bewilderment on his face. The innocence, the blush ... and above all, imagining him biting his mouth, his cheeks red of shame and pleasure. The moles burning, and his fingers —god, his damn fingers— a soft caress on Lydia's cheeks, barely rubbing them, just to prove himself that she’s not a dream.

The noise that Lydia makes is almost embarrassing.

She’s sure she has turned ruby red, and bites her mouth trying not to make more noise.

"You good?" It's the second time she's been asked that today, and Lydia is starting to get tired of the question.

"Perfect"

"You're red. Are you dizzy? Do you want me to open a window?"

Stiles sits straight on the bed, closing his books and watching her with real concern in his brown eyes. He frowns, like he’s analyzing symptoms and looking for solutions. Always the gentleman. Lydia would laugh and everything but she is frustrated and turned on. Tired too.

And she's not going to say anything, really. Lydia Martin may have many flaws but she is perfectly capable of keeping a secret. She's going to bite her tongue, and let it go because she knows it's a mistake. She knows that wishing Stiles to touch her is selfish and stupid and cannot lead to anything good.

But Stiles touches her first. He makes himself a little forward, their knees touching on the bed, and puts a hand on her forehead. A big, warm hand that has beautiful fingers.

“You are burning hot”

And that good ability that Lydia has to keep secrets escapes between her fingers because Stiles is very close, and smells very good and he is touching her.

"It's your fault"

He shakes his head, laughing a little.

“My fault? I’m not sick or anything”

He really is slow sometimes, she thinks. And that gives her the chance to back off, and pretend she have not committed the mistake of saying that, because Lydia Martin doesn’t make mistakes either. She dodges them.

"It’s a blush," she says, as her brain looks at her from the corner of the room, stabbing her for her stupidity "I’m a redhead, you know? I usually blush a lot "

"Oookay" Stiles is looking at her worriedly like she has really lost her mind. But now that she has a goal —to get his fingers to touch her again—, she’s not going to lose. Surrender doesn’t fit into any plan she has ever made.

She’s going to tell him something else, something like “Do you want to know where I blush the most?” Because she is pretty sure he’s the one blushing now, but she doesn’t want to torture him anymore.

He's her friend, and Lydia doesn’t remember the last time she had a friend so she doesn’t want to ruin it. She wants to be touched, and she wants to feel good for ten minutes in a row without thinking that maybe tomorrow they'll have another death threat over their heads, but she doesn’t want to ruin it.

"Would you kiss me?" She asks, bending her head. Stiles leans back a little, like he needs the space to look properly at her. From top to bottom, from the loose skirt of her dress to her lips. In the end, the boy focuses on looking at her eyes, while a blush goes up to his ears.

"Kiss you?" He stutters, and this is the usual Stiles, the one she knows and she feels satisfied for a second. Satisfied that he is still there and has not disappeared. "You want  _me_  to kiss  _you_ ," he says slowly, like he doesn’t believe it or has misheard her.

"Only if you want to," she explains, trying to look like she is not interested in the conversation but on her insides, oh, her heart beats hard behind her ribs and she is pretty sure everyone can hear it all over Beacon Hills.

"If I ... Lydia, what's this all about?"

“I just want you to kiss me. But is alright if you don’t want to” She’s disappointed but she’s not going to show it. Lydia shrugs and turns her head to continue with her algebra problems. She even smiles a little because Stiles is breathing hard at her side and she knows he is looking at her.

She's going to tell him something else, but she's already insisted on it a couple of times and she's not going to say anything about it again. She focuses on her homework and tries to forget that Stiles is by her side.

But suddenly, Stiles grabs her face with both hands and kisses her. Lydia doesn’t expect it, so she throws herself back a little and Stiles takes it as a negative. She hasn’t had the time to process that she had Stiles's lips on her own when the boy walks away, looking at her with confusion.

"I thought you wanted to ..."

"I want to" she hurries to tell him and smiles a little to encourage him. Stiles is still holding her face, caressing her cheeks with his thumbs.

"Lydia, I ..."

“Just kiss me” she pleads.

"’kay” Stiles doesn’t fight her and Lydia wants to feel bad about it, but he tastes like coffee and candy and she wants to drink him. The boy's lips are soft but firm, and she ends up kneeling on the bed because Stiles seems comfortable a mile from her and that’s just intolerable. When she gets closer to him, his chest is hot under the shirt he wears and Lydia leans on his shoulders to keep from falling.

Despite what she believed, Stiles is not a shy kisser and for once in his life he takes his time. She wants to laugh —Okay, psychologists of the world, I know something that causes Stiles Stilinski to focus and regain all the calm that you thought he did not have.

He kisses patiently and without haste, exploring her mouth with his tongue as if he wants to memorize it. He kisses sliding between her lips. The stifled sighs and the sound of their tongues make Lydia wet between her legs.

Of course, he talks while kissing, because Stiles cannot be silent while he kisses. He can’t be quiet, period.

It's Stiles.

"God, Lydia your mouth ... I'm ... Oh my god" but he kisses her endlessly, he kisses her so much that Lydia wonders how long he has wanted to kiss her, and if there were enough kisses to forget about it.

“Please” she murmurs against his lips. He is kissing her without rest, and she is moaning inside his mouth, because she would never have imagined Stiles was so good kissing.

"Whatever you want" he murmurs back, "whatever" he insists, while he puts his fingers in her hair and wraps his other arm around her waist. Lydia's chest bumps against his and the sensation is electrifying; his erection burns against her stomach and Lydia wants to touch him but for once she doesn’t dare.

"Sit down," she asks, panting "against the headboard," she points it out, and Stiles goes there but he doesn’t let go of her, not quite, as if he were afraid she might disappear between his fingers. He grabs her hand as he sits where she has asked. His erection a funny tent against his pants and Lydia knows perfectly what she wants.

The strangled sound Stiles makes as she sits astride him is all she needs to know that the boy is more than on board with the plan. His hands end up on Lydia's hips, gripping her tightly, while his mouth seeks her, and she is more than happy to please him. She wraps her arms around his neck, sticking so tightly to his body that she feels his heart beating at a rushing pace against her. The boy's fingers tremble slightly against her hips, but she doesn’t say anything, she just arches against him, causing his eyelids to tremble —Lydia's eyes are open, Lydia is looking. He’s not like those guys who only know how to grunt. Stiles moans, hoarse and low, and Lydia doesn’t know how her panties have not evaporated yet.

"What do YOU want" she asks, because she wanted him to kiss her and now it’s her time to oblige. She wants to feel she is not being selfish, that if she gives him something he wants, it will be a mutual thing; if it goes wrong, it will not be her fault anymore. She wants to make him happy but she doesn’t know how.

"Can I ... God, can I touch you?" Lydia can see his Adam’s apple going up and down in his throat, while he asks with his eyes closed. Stiles rests his head against the headboard, breathing restlessly. His lips are red, his cheeks burning, and Lydia can’t resist it. She leans forward to kiss his moles. The one near his ear, the one on his cheek, the one at the corner of his mouth. Then his lips are so close and his breath so hot she has to lick is lips too.

"You are touching me" and he is. His hands are on her ribs now, holding her in place. Stiles dares to open his eyes, and God, Lydia would rather he had not, because his pupils are so dilated that his eyes look black, molten lust.

"I meant"

"I know what you meant" she smiles a little, and leans in, kissing his jaw. The next time she talks, it's against his ear "you can" she says. Stiles hisses and she hides her smile.

She expects him to start at her neck. And her breasts. She expects him to grow more confident while he touches her. She believes he’s going to undress her. She believes he’s going to go slow and admire her and to ask her for permission at every step he takes. She has forgotten that this Stiles is not the virgin boy from a year ago.

She does not know what she expects, but she certainly doesn’t expect to feel his hands on her thighs, lifting her skirt. Her stockings end there and Stiles inhales through his mouth when he notices it and his fingers touch skin, the upper part of her thighs, her panties, her waist. His hands are under her dress and Lydia observes him, biting her mouth because Stiles is touching her but he is not looking at her, like he wanted to burn her touch in his memory and Lydia wants something but doesn’t know what it is.

The next thing she feels is Stiles's fingers on the fabric of her panties. His erection against her ass, a reminder that he is as horny as she is, and his fingers —those fucking fingers that have only tortured her— caress her as softly as a feather. Now it’s her turn to hiss. Stiles smiles with his eyes closed, and then, like he has realized that he wants to see her, he opens them and they stare at each other so hard that time stops existing and God stops to observe them because He hasn’t seen a Titan War in a long time.

"You're ..."

"I know." Lydia nods before Stiles tells her what she already knows, that she's so wet it's embarrassing.

"I was going to say responsive"

"Yeah, sure"

He chuckles and it's so him that she relaxes a little, hugging him, and letting him do as he pleases. She's not used to it, to let someone take control, but Stiles doesn’t seem to have it so he cheats her. He makes her believe that control is something that has no place in this bed and when he touches her with his thumb it’s a soft caress, just a touch, but she is electrified and feels it everywhere. She arches, involuntarily looking for more, and bites her mouth.

When Stiles decides to get his fingers inside her panties and touches her for the first time, she sighs and growls. His fingers are a little cold, like he is nervous and the feeling is addictive. He caresses her softly and slowly, cupping her with his whole hand, the tips of his fingers at the crease of her ass. And she knows she’s wetting his hand and she feels embarrassed for one second but then Stiles —They’re still staring at each other— suddenly draws his lips out, waiting for a kiss and she can only oblige, forgetting the rest.

His lips are wet and burning as they kiss slowly and Stiles speaks against her mouth.

"Can you take them off, please?"

He asks her so politely, like he is not touching her with his fingers. "Of course, sir," she answers, because she doesn’t remember the last time someone was polite with her in bed.

Lydia rises from his body, lowering her panties to her thighs, and finally ends up standing and lowering them completely down her legs while he strokes her throbbing thighs.

"Do you want me to take this off too?" She asks, grabbing the edge of her dress.

"Leave it"

"Kinky" she laughs, sitting on him again, and Stiles needss exactly half a second to wrap her arms around her.

"Practical" he answers "if my father comes in ..." he puts his hands on her hips again and Lydia is going to protest, but the boy makes her arch against him, and oh, with nothing between her now she can feel his pants against her flesh. The hot erection that is underneath too. She could come like this, she realizes with a surprised groan.

"If your father comes in, my panties on the bed are the first thing he's going to notice"

He laughs against her collarbone, kissing her there too.

"Hopefully, he would just notice the beautiful girl moaning on my lap"

She hits him gently on the shoulder, and gasps because… when has Stiles become this kid who knows how to joke in bed?

"Can we go back to the part where you touch me now?"  He is nuzzling her neck so she thinks he hasn’t hear her but then his hand roams to her center again.

"You're soft" he murmurs, kissing her throat, touching her like he has all the time in the world. And then, without warning, he enters her with a finger —long, long, eternal finger. It’s so unexpected that she scratches him with her nails on his shoulders, and she’s sure that Stiles has felt her thighs contracting.

"And sweet," he adds, pulling out his finger. Lydia gasps a protest, but says nothing because Stiles puts his finger in his mouth afterwards and licks it clean.

"And horny" she adds, and takes the hand, the same very finger that he has been licking and put it in her mouth, and she adds another, and then —while Stiles arches his hips against her and moans — another one, just to see how he turns red. Stiles sweats, oozing sex and she’s dying.

"And beautiful" he corrects her. "So very beautiful"

And then he touches her again with his fingers. The index inside first, middle one goes after. He adds a third one because she has lick it wet with saliva and it slides easy inside her.

Lydia's hair wraps them around like a curtain, and she feels full but it's not enough and Stiles is not moving his fingers. He folds them a little, tentatively, and the movement makes his palm rub against her flesh too.

She gets even wetter and knows that Stiles notices it because his fingers slide even deeper inside her.

"God, Lyds"

"I know"

"No, you don’t. This ... " he pulls out his fingers and pushes them back in, the sound so obscene that if Stiles's father really walks in there is no doubt about what's going on beneath her skirt. "This is ... you are ..."

"I know" she repeats, and she wants to add “you too”, but Stiles is kissing her and the truth dies between their lips.

Lydia grows impatient. Stiles is touching her like he doesn’t want it to end, but she is dying so she decides to help. She moves on his fingers, just as she would if they were fucking, and well, she  _fucks_ on his fingers.

"God, god, oh god" and it should be her saying that —because Stiles is flexing his fingers right where he should whenever they enter her body— but it’s Stiles. It’s Stiles who is whispering against her body, half moaning half grunting, mouth open against her neck.

She moves faster and when he realizes she is going to come —she is squeezing his fingers so tightly inside her that she thinks they’ll break— he helps her, his thumb against her clit, fast circles, and Holy Shit, Lydia can’t breathe.

"Stiles," she murmurs, begs, gasps. Her knees are failing her and she can’t move, but he helps her with his hand, and his groan of surprise when he feels her contracting is what makes her jump off the cliff. She comes like a thunder, a weight that leaves her breathless, a blow to the lungs, and she sees everything white and bright for a second.

Stiles continues murmuring things, but she is only able to arch because she didn’t remember the last time something felt so good.

When she comes back to life Stiles is looking at her and she smiles, lazily.

"What?”

"Nothing" he answers, and pulls his fingers out of her, the feeling of emptiness a small punishment.

She falls against her erection, remembering that it’s still there.

"What do you want?" She asks again, her voice so rough that she hardly recognizes it. "What gets you off?"

“You”

After all this time, she wants to ask, but she refrain herself.

"Whatever you want to do, Lydia. Really "

Whatever she wants are a lot of things, but Lydia has to decide on something. For a fraction of a second she thinks about telling him that she wants to see him touch himself, but if she wants to look at those hands of his again and be able to concentrate, that is not an option.

"Can I kiss you?"

Stiles responds in a heartbeat.

"Of course"

And he bends down to kiss her but Lydia gets off his body. The sound he makes when the girl lifts his shirt and kisses his navel, realizing what she meant when she said kissing him, is what encourages her to keep going.

She unbuttons his belt with shaking hands because she has not yet recovered from her own orgasm and when she manages to release his erection, she smiles.

"What's so funny?" he asks.

"I was right," she says, as explanation.

"About?" He asks again, holding the sheets because Lydia is stroking his dick with her lips, the salty taste against her and she can see that he wants to hold her face but he doesn’t dare.

"You're long everywhere" and he laughs but his laugh dies in his throat when she licks him.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Its my first time ever with this two, so i hope the characters are alright (I know lydia is kinda OOC but that girl is imposible to get sometimes). I really hope you guys liked this. Thanks for reading :)


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